


Star Wars: Bad Company

by TheWildDeguzis



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWildDeguzis/pseuds/TheWildDeguzis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow Colm Derlis, the worst Jedi Knight in the Order, as he leads B Company, the one and only unit for defective clones fit to serve in the field, as they're sent on some of the Clone Wars most difficult missions and its most fatal battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

While the turbolift ride to the council chamber had always seemed excessively long, today it seemed to stretch on forever. As the chute climbed higher and higher above the megalopolis of Coruscant, Colm Derlis, Jedi apprentice and general screwup, examined his reflection in the glass of the turbolift door. Growing up, he had never been considered attractive and this had held true as he had become a man. His nose was hooked and slightly crooked. His hair shorn short in the traditional style of the apprentice was always messy, and its black sheen made it look as if it were coated in grease, a feature which carried over into his scraggly facial hair. Colm was tall and lanky, but had a near constant slouch that made for a pathetic figure. 

The lift began to slow its ascent, preparing to stop at the top of the spire, and Colm straightened his back in response. He had been called before the council and he had a sinking feeling that he knew what this was about. Colm had never been a good Jedi, even before had been chosen by his master, Faada, a strict Ithorian with a grating voice and an arsenal of criticisms. His lightsaber techniques were sloppy, his force powers aggressive and unfocused, and he had never been one for meditation. He had never been sure why the Ithorian, who was one of the Order’s better healers, had chosen him as his apprentice. Perhaps Faada had been bored and had seen the young human as a challenge, or maybe Colm’s behavior had annoyed him and he wanted to change it. Whatever the reason had been, his master had apparently given up on him. Recently, Colm had been subjected to the trials that would allow him to pass from apprenticeship into knighthood and every time he had failed. Now, Colm figured, the Order had had finally given up on him. There could be no other reason that the council would call him before them. 

To be honest, it wasn’t a terrible fate. The beliefs of the Jedi were far too strict for Colm, who had grown up an orphan in the canals of Naboo. Plus, he held no real loyalties in the temple. He despised his master and many of the other teachers he had worked with, and his only real friend was a fellow apprentice named Kilki. She was an attractive Zabrak of around the same age as Colm who had been the finest duelist in their youngling clan. The two had been close when they were initiates; but ever since they had been chosen by their masters, they had slowly lost touch. If he was to be exiled today, he wasn’t even sure he’d get a chance to say goodbye to her. Kilki and her master had been among a number of Jedi chosen for a strike team. Their mission had something to with with some sort of crisis on an outer rim world called Geonosis. Of course, neither Colm nor Faada had been chosen and neither were surprised. Faada was no warrior and the Order made no secret of the disdain it held for Colm. He often heard it whispered that he was the worst Jedi to ever be chosen by a master. 

The turbolift at last came to a halt and the doors flew open with little ceremony. In the small outer chamber that served as a waiting room stood his master, doing his best to twist his alien face into what Colm assumed was a scowl. 

“You’re late,” Faada intoned, sounding more disinterested than disappointed.

“Sorry, Master. Overslept,” Colm replied weakly, not in the mood to argue. His master made the Ithorian equivalent of a grunt and motioned for him to follow. Colm complied and and the pair entered the council chambers. To his surprise, the room was surprisingly bare, its ring of chairs empty but for one, where a Gran council member sat. In front of him stood Cin Drallig, the battlemaster of the Jedi Order.    
“The Council couldn’t be bothered to be present to exile me, eh?” Colm asked with a bitter chuckle.

“Still your tongue,” Faada cut in harshly, “You’re not being exiled. Not today, at least. And if you paid any attention at all you would know why. The Galactic Republic is now at war.”

“War? But… how could that be? The Republic hasn’t been at war in years. We don’t even have an army! I mean, I know the Separatist Crisis was getting out of hand, but war?”

“With the balance of the Republic at risk the Chancellor was granted emergency powers and he officially created the Grand Army of the Republic, utilizing the army of clones recently discovered by Master Kenobi. Of course, even with this new army, the crisis on Geonosis escalated into a full-on battle. The battle was fierce and the lives of many Jedi were lost. With our numbers thinned so greatly, the Order has seen fit to waive the Trials for a number of Jedi, including you. You are to be knighted, given rank in the army of the Republic, and in a matter of days, you will be assigned to a unit of Clone Troopers.”

As Faada’s speech concluded, a disquieting silence fell over the room. Frankly, Colm was shocked. He had come before the council expecting to exiled and yet here he was, about to be knighted and sent off to war. “I… I don’t know what to say,” Colm stammered.

“Then don’t say anything at all,” Faada cut back coldly, “Just kneel and try not to squirm. I’m sure you don’t want me to cut off more than just your padawan braid.” Colm opened his mouth to respond, closed it when he couldn’t think of response, opened it again for a sarcastic quip, then decided against it entirely, and took a knee. He bowed his head, causing his padawan braid to dangle from the side of his head. His master stepped in front of him and was joined on either side by Cin Drallig and the Gran council member. They each ignited their lightsabers, Faada’s silver blade flanked by green and yellow. “In sight of the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and this esteemed member of the Jedi Council,” Faada began, “And by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic.” With a smooth guided movement, the Ithorian Jedi brought his lightsaber past Colm’s ear and clipped the base of his braid, severing it. It dropped unceremoniously to the ground and the masters in front of him deactivated their lightsabers. 

“That’s it then?” Colm asked, breaking the silence. Faada nodded tiredly as the other Jedi began to make their exits from the room.

“You are now a full Jedi, Colm, and soon you will be an officer in the army of the Republic. Now go. I’m sure you need to prepare for what is to come and, at long last, you are no longer my problem.” With that, his former master nodded in farewell and followed the other masters. 

 

* * *

The week that followed passed about as quickly as a Hutt in a foot race, and with about as much excitement. Waiting was tough for Colm. He had never really picked up any particular hobbies and now that he was a Jedi Knight, he no longer needed to attend any of his master’s boring training sessions. Still, he had to fill that time with something. Colm spent most of it brushing up on his lightsaber techniques. He was being sent off to war, after all, and it would do him good to be ready with his weapon as to not get himself killed. One day early into the week, he had made an attempt at meditating, but his thoughts were far too scattered and chaotic for him to find any peace. Mostly, he spent his time wandering the halls of the Temple. For the first few days after his knighting the halls were mostly empty, but as the week carried on, they began to regain some of their populace, if not any of their liveliness. Many of the Jedi he encountered seemed to be walking as if half-awake. Colm quickly learned that these were the survivors of what was now being called the Battle of Geonosis, the first battle of this conflict they were now embroiled in called the Clone War. Of course, he was not acquainted with any of the Jedi he passed, but on his final day in the temple, he encountered a survivor he did know. 

He had just finished another round lightsaber training and had begun his usual rounds around the temple’s sprawling halls when he had spotted a familiar figure shuffling his way. She had her hood pulled over her head and most of her face was obscured, but the lightsaber on her belt gave her away. After all, Colm could have recognized the bronzed hilt anywhere. “Kilki!” he shouted down the hall, moving quickly towards his friend. Her head jolted up in recognition of his voice, throwing off the hood as she did. Her amber colored eyes were distant and lacked their usual warmth and even her rich brown skin seemed pale. However, as she caught sight of her fellow Jedi, a small smile lit up her face, if only for a moment. Colm closed the distance between them and as he approached her, he noticed that, like himself, her padawan braid was gone. 

“Colm,” she replied, “It’s good to see you.”

“They knighted you too, eh? I guess your master finally realized you were ready. Long overdue, if you ask me.”

“You didn’t hear, did you?” Kilki said as the smile faded from her face, “My master is dead. He was killed during the Battle of Geonosis. One of those new battle droids shot a rocket at him. It… it hit him in the back, but… the rocket didn’t kill him. He… he was burned pretty bad, and he wasn’t… all in one piece. I watched him die, Colm,” she trailed off, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, “I watched a lot of good Jedi die and now they’re making us into generals and sending us off to war. Why is this happening, Colm? What’s going on?”

Colm didn’t have an answer for. He had never understood how to comfort people, especially not those deep in grief. All he could do was put a hand on her shoulder and hope that it would be enough. She looked up, eyes welling with tears and noticed that he too was missing his braid. “That’s why they knighted you isn’t it? They needed soldiers and they figured they’d free Faada of his obligations and ship you off to the frontlines.” Kilki turned her gaze to the ground and grew quiet. The two stood that way for several tense moments before she spoke up again. “When are you being deployed?”

“By the end of the day,” he replied flatly.

“Where are they sending you?”

“Kamino. They told me my company of clones isn’t quite ready for deployment yet, but it’d help me integrate if I was there for some of their training. Then it’s off to wherever the Republic wants us. And what about you?”

“I don’t know. They’ve decided not to deploy me immediately. Give me time to… you know, grieve, I guess. If I had it my way, I’d be staying here permanently, but the Order seems to regard me as one of it’s better swordsman and they’re dead set on deploying me eventually,” Kiliki explained with a sigh. “I’ll have to lead clones eventually. I knew things in the Republic were getting pretty bad, but I don’t think any of us saw this coming.”

Colm echoed her sigh. “Things seem pretty glum, I’ll give you that. But I’m sure this war can’t take more than a few months. You’ll see. We’re gonna hit those Seps hard and before you know it they’ll be crumbling under the pressure.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, though even he wasn’t sure if he believed what he was saying. 

“Colm,” came a voice at his shoulder, pulling him out his moment with Kilki. The young Jedi turned to face the source of the voice and found himself facing an aging Weequay. He recognized her as Jedi Master Kossex, one of the older members of the order and a master who had considered him for apprenticeship briefly. “Our shuttle will be boarding soon,” she explained as the two met eye contact, “You should say your goodbyes now. We don’t want to be late.”

Colm nodded and turned back to Kilki. “Well, I guess this is me, then. It was good to see you, Kilki. I didn’t think I would get the chance before I was shipped out.” She didn’t meet his gaze, but did give a slight nod as she turned away and began to head back the way she came. Though she would never have had admitted it, Colm had caught the tears that had been forming as she left. “Good-bye, Kilki,” he said to no one in particular. He watched his friend go, until she rounded a corner and was out of sight. He let out another sigh, and joined Master Kossex as the two made their way to the hangar.

 

* * *

Much like the week that had preceded it, the shuttle flight to Kamino was long and uneventful. Being that it was in a backwoods neck of the galaxy, they were constantly dropping in and out of hyperspace to avoid the myriads of hazards along the way. For the duration of the trip, Colm mainly kept to himself. The passengers were few and almost all of them were Jedi, who gave him a wide berth. Not that he minded. He spent most of his time in his room, staring out the window at the stars passing by and imagining the battles that awaited him. Despite his fantasizing, he had no idea what awaited him. He and his master hadn’t been sent on too many missions and the ones that they had gone on were mostly to see that some negotiation or another when smoothly. They had rarely seen combat. 

When they had finally dropped out of hyperspace over the rainy world of Kamino, Colm couldn’t help but think that it looked incredibly gloomy from space, with its wide swaths of clouds and muted blue ocean. It was no surprise that once they were within the planet’s atmosphere, it was even gloomier, the constant rain and cloud cover making everything appear a dull shade of gray. Once they dropped below the clouds, it only took a few minutes before they were landing on one of the floating cities that the native Kaminoans called home. They disembarked in an orderly fashion and passed from the rainy platform into the sterile white halls in quick fashion, where the group was met by a number of Kaminoans. One in particular singled Colm out from the crowd and motioned for him to follow. 

“You are Colm Derlis, yes?” the Kaminoan asked as he approached. He gave a quick nod in response. “Good. You have been assigned to B Company. I assume you have been briefed on the special nature of your clones?” When Colm only gave a confused look as an answer, his guide shrugged. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out when you meet them. Follow me.” Without another word, the Kaminoan led him away from the others and further into the facility. They walked for several minutes in silence, Colm not sure what to say and his guide apparently uninterested in conversation, before they finally reached an unmarked door, virtually indistinguishable from the others they had passed. “These barracks will house the members of B Company as we establish it. For now, its only member, aside from you, is Sergeant CT-4192, though he’s taken to calling himself Sergeant Bek. The clones seem to be taking on some strange personality traits, but I’m sure any disciplined commander could sort that out. Come,” he said, passing into the barracks.

The room they entered was the standard military affair, with bunks lining one wall and equipment lockers opposite it. As his guide had said, its only occupant was a lone clone rooting through one of the lockers. He turned to face them as the pair entered the room, and it was only the that Colm realized the clone was missing an arm. “CT-4192,” the Kaminoan said, bringing the clone to attention, “This is Jedi Knight, Colm Derlis. He has been assigned to B Company and will be Jedi General in charge. You will take you orders in the field directly from him. Understood?”

“Understood,” the clone replied, saluting with his one arm. 

“Right. I will take my leave of you then. Master Derlis, these barracks will also serve as your quarters. I’m afraid we Kaminoans do not often receive guests and, as such, have few places to house them. You will have to sleep with your troops. Anyways, if you are needed, someone will be sent to find you. Good day, Master Derlis.”

“Oh, I’m not a-,” Colm tried to interject, but when he turned to face his guide, he found that he was already gone, leaving him with Sergeant Bek. “So, Bek, is it?” he started, turning to face the clone. “What, ah… happened to your arm?” 

He couldn’t tell whether he had offended him or not, but the clone took a moment to respond. “Never had it to begin with,” he finally stated, “And the flesh there is too weak and necrotic to support a replacement. Weren’t you briefed on this?”

“Not really, no,” Colm replied, uneasily. “They kinda just told me where I was headed and shipped me off.”

Bek snorted derisively. “Well this is certainly gonna be a shocker for you. You’re heading up B Company, the one and only unit for defective clones fit to serve in the field. You see, the Republic needs men for its suicide missions and who better than the clones that nobody will miss. The clones that were never going to reach their full potential anyways.”

“That…” Colm started, beginning to piece together his situation, “That actually makes a bit of sense. Er, not the part about you not reaching your potential,” he stammered quickly, realizing that he might have offended the sergeant. “I mean, the part about people nobody will miss. It figures that I’d get assigned to a company like this. That way the order can make it seem like they’re giving me an important position and get rid of me at the same time. I should have guessed,” he added, trailing off into a grumble. 

“No use complaining about it,” Bek shot back with a scowl. “You’re a soldier now. You get your lot and you deal with it. When command tells you you to tackle a gundark and bring back its ears, you say ‘Yes sir!’ and do it with a smile. Otherwise, you’re gonna be in for one rude awakening, Jedi.”

Colm thought for a moment about giving a sarcastic response or putting the clone in his place, but he was particularly tired from the trip and he had a sinking feeling that the soldier wouldn’t stand for Colm talking down to him. Instead, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m gonna hit the hay. Long trip and whatnot. Wake me if anything explodes or the Seps show up.” Turning his back on the clone, he picked a bunk at random and flopped down on top of it. Within moments, he was drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Explosions rang out all around Colm as he scrambled for the nearest semblance of cover. The air was thick with laserfire, dust, and the screams of the dying. It was unlike anything the young Jedi had ever experienced. The droids were endless and the smell of death and destruction was everywhere. As he pressed his back to a ruined piece of wall, he thought he spotted a member of his squad, but another rocked exploded nearby, kicking up a cloud of dust that obscured his view. He breathed out and tried to tap into the Force to focus his thoughts, but the chaos of the battle proved to be too overbearing. His heart was racing, his breaths were shallow, and there was a deep pit in his stomach. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Sergeant Bek came sprinting towards Colm. He dived forward into a roll and came to a stop beside the Jedi, staying low to avoid enemy fire. “We’re in deep, general. We’ve gotta make a move soon, or we’re gonna be another number in the death toll.”

“I can see that,” Colm shouted over the chaos, “I just can’t see a way through this mess. There’s droids everywhere and those damn Hailfires are making it nearly impossible to get to the facility’s main door.”

“Did you consider that there may be other ways in, general?” He couldn’t see the clone’s face, but he could tell by the tone of his voice that he had rolled his eyes at him. Yet, despite the clone’s disrespect, Colm knew he was right. There had to be an alternative to the main entrance. However, the plan had never called for alternatives and the intel they had received on the facility had been limited to say in the least. Regardless, he had to do something and do it fast. He had to trust in the Force. He had to do something reckless. And he had to do it now. 

“Damnit, I know that, Bek! Just… just follow my lead. I’ll get us there.” Without waiting for his sergeant’s response, Colm vaulted over the wall he had been using for cover and charged back into the battlefield, igniting the bronze blade of his lightsaber as he went. As he sprinted through the clouds of dust that filled the air, his bravado began to fade, quickly being replaced by a sense of dread. It’s not that he was afraid of the droids. Sure, they were fearsome foes, but he had taken enough down that they were little more than obstacles in between him and his objective. This was something else entirely. There was someone, something, out there in the clouds of dust and it was coming for him. Suddenly, even the air around him seemed wrong. It was too quiet. The sounds of laser fire and explosions had all but ceased and the dust was beginning to settle. As if materializing from the dust itself, a shadowy figure appeared in front of Colm. It was a huge, hulking, lizardlike form that was, without a doubt, emanating the feeling of dread that had now stopped Colm dead in his tracks. So great was his fear of this monster that several moments passed before he noticed that the figure carried a sword or that he was raising it to attack. Yet, despite the imminent threat, Colm found himself frozen, his lightsaber hanging limply at his side. The monster, this thing, fully aware of its prey’s helpless state, raised the sword above what appeared to be its head and, with an inhuman shriek, darted towards him. It was upon him almost instantly and all went black.

 

* * *

Colm awoke suddenly, gasping for breath. His heart was nearly pounding out of his chest and so much adrenaline was pumping through his system that when Master Kossex put her hand on his shoulder, he nearly tackled the Weequay Jedi. “Sorry, Master Kossex, you startled me. I was dreaming or… having a vision… or something. I can’t be quite sure.”

The Jedi Master sat down on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me about it, Colm. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

“There was a battle,” Colm started, recalling the dream that was still as fresh in his mind as if it had just happened. “It wasn’t going well, I think… I think it was mostly my fault. I had bad intel, but I was also unsure. I had to do something so I led a charge. I was attacked by this… thing. It was powerful and terrifying and… and it filled me with dread. And that’s when I woke up.” 

Master Kossex sat in silence for several long moments. Her wrinkled face was still, but Colm could tell she was puzzling through what he had said. “This is definitely more than a dream,” she finally replied, breaking the silence, “But what it is a vision of, I cannot be sure. It may be a glimpse into your future or it may be less literal than that. I’ll have to confer with some of the other masters. Now come,” she said rising from the bunk, “We’re late for the briefing.”

“Briefing?” Colm called after her, but she merely motioned for him to follow and left the room. He sighed as he rolled off the bunk, but followed her nonetheless. 

Picking up his stride to catch up with the Jedi Master, Colm joined Master Kossex as the quickly made their way through the sterile hallways of the Kaminoan city. He made several attempts to figure out what the briefing might be about, but all were met with silence and an amused smirk from the Weequay. After what seemed like several minutes and countless identical hallways, the pair finally arrived at an open doorway, where it seemed the briefing was already underway. Standing in the middle of the room, Obi-Wan Kenobi was addressing the gathered Jedi. 

“Thanks to the information gathered by Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura, for the first time since the Battle of Geonosis, we know where the Separatists intend to strike before they attack. Kamino still has about a million or more clone troopers in various stages of preparation. A successful attack by the Confederacy might cripple the Republic. Instead, Master Rancisis has devised a strategy the may cripple them. Master…” Obi-wan trailed off, indicating that the other Jedi could speak up.

“It is imperative that the confederacy launch their full attack before they realize the Republic is here in full force,” the Thisspiasian said, continuing where Kenobi had left off, “Therefore the bulk of our force is one hyperspace jump away, awaiting our signal.” 

“Our energy shields will protect us from energy weapons, but will not repel ground troops,” a lanky female kaminoan added, “and the majority of the clones here are not yet battle ready.”

“If the Separatists smell a trap, they’ll just back out. Next time we won’t have a warning,” Master Vos’s hologram warned.

“The Confederacy’s forces will expect some defence at Kamino, given its strategic importance. Which is why we brought you here from your commands,” Obi-wan picked back up, “Sienar is developing fighters for the clones, but they’re not ready yet, so the Republic will rely on us and our starfighters. We will engage the opposition force, take out the droid fighters, and delay the ground troops long enough for our forces to arrive. Master Tsui Choi and Aayla will lead the flight to intercept the fighters. I’ll lead the second flight to defend the facility. Another group of Jedi will remain on the platform to supervise group defenses. Questions?” he asked, pausing to allow anyone to voice their concerns. When no one did, he continued. “No? Then we are done here.”

The briefing having ended, the Jedi went their separate ways, off to do whatever they needed to do to prepare for battle. Colm, himself, having never gone into combat, was unsure of what to do or where to go. He lingered in the room for a moment, but it seemed that Master Kenobi was attempting to have a private conversation with his apprentice. He nodded awkwardly in their direction and shuffled back into the hallway, where he was met once again by Master Kossex. 

“Colm, have you been assigned to any of the squads yet?” Kossex asked.

“No, I assumed I’d be placed somewhere where I can’t do any harm. Guarding a supply closet or something.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but if you think you’re up for it, there’s an open spot on Red Squadron,” she replied, placing her hand on his arm reassuringly. “I seem to recall hearing Faada mention you were decent in a starship during one of his long-winded rants. In fact, it seems to be one of the only things he didn’t complain about. You know how the old Ithorian is. Sometimes he complains so long that he did it in stereo.”

For the first time since he had left Kamino, Colm smiled. There was something about the old Weequay Jedi that comforted him. Maybe it was because she seemed like more of a Master than Faada had ever been. Regardless, Colm was eager to see some action. “Well, I’m no Anakin Skywalker, but I can handle myself. Most of the time that Faada and I did see combat, it was when we were flying, so I at least know what to expect.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I could use a good wingman. I’ll make sure that they have a fighter prepped for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to meditate in the time we have remaining,” she concluded, before turning from him and quickly strolling away. As he stood there alone, Colm realized that he had no idea how to get back to the barracks. He wheeled around, looking to call after Master Kossex, but she was already gone.  Always on the move, that one,  he thought, chuckling. 

Turning back around, Colm began to wish he had been paying attention on his way to the briefing. Kaminoan architects seemingly loved the color white and adored symmetry. While it may have been pleasing to them, he hated it. It was maddening . All of the halls seemed the same and there was little to no way to tell which way to go. At least Colm remembered which way he had come from on his way into the briefing room. He sighed heavily, and started off in that direction. He figured that if he walked long enough, he might find someone who could point him in the right direction. Sure enough, after a few minutes of aimless walking, he spotted a familiar one-armed figure emerging from a doorway. Bek was deep in conversation with two other clones, neither of whom seemed to have clear deformities like the sergeant did. Colm jogged up to meet them and they turned to greet them.

“Boys,” Bek said as he saluted, “This is General Derlis. He isn’t much, but he’s the Jedi they’ve put in charge of B Company.” Colm scowled at the clone’s seeming lack of respect, but it didn’t phase him in the slightest. “Derlis, this is Clutch and Mute,” he continued, gesturing at each of the clones with him, “The fingers on Clutch’s right hand are fused together, makes it hard for him to use anything larger than a blaster carbine.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Colm asked, gesturing at Mute.

“I’m deaf,” he replied, almost instantly.

“But… you heard me.”

“They taught me to read lips and my helmet has a dictation program built into it.”

“So, why do they call you Mute if you’re deaf?” Colm asked, still rather confused.

“Because, for me, it’s like the world is on mute. Can’t hear a damned thing,” Mute responded with a shrug.

“He’s a damned good shot, though,” Bek interjected, “You’ll be glad we have him, trust me.”

The young Jedi nodded, still rather unsure about having a deaf soldier on his squad. “Is this everyone, then?”

“No, we’re still waiting on two more to be cleared by medical. They should be ready for us in a day or two. Then we ship out. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to the shooting range,” Bek concluded as he turned away.

“Ah, sergeant, which way to the barracks?”

Bek cocked an eyebrow at him as if to ask if he was serious. When Colm kept looking at him, he sighed and poked his thumb in the direction of the door he had just exited. Colm blushed, nodded in thanks, and entered the barracks. The door closed behind him and he found himself alone in the awkward silence of the empty room. For several long moments, he simply stood there, eyes locked on the floor. He had no clue what to do to prepare for a battle. Meditating wasn’t his thing and he didn’t use a blaster, so the range was out of the question. In addition, this wasn’t the temple and there were no lightsaber training droids to spar against. Colm supposed that he could go back to sleep, but he wasn’t all that tired anymore and with the memory of the vision still fresh in his mind, sleep didn’t seem a very inviting prospect. Eventually, he settled down in front of one of the bunks and began taking apart his lightsaber and putting it back together again. It wasn’t a particularly useful task, but one that occupied his mind.

 

* * *

Several hours passed this way, as he dismantled the hilt of his weapon and inspected each piece of it, sometimes pausing to polish the metal pieces or to feel the smooth piece of leather that he had tied around the simple hilt. Once, he had picked up the dull brown crystal that gave the blade its color and had stared at it, examining its intricacies. He eventually became so engrossed in his task that when the alarm began to sound, Colm dropped the hilt and the pieces scattered in front of him. Scrambling quickly to his feet, he held his left hand out in front of him and tapped into the Force to bring the pieces back together. He then pulled the assembled lightsaber back into his hand and clipped it to his belt.

Moving quickly and just a hint of panic, the young Jedi stumbled out into the hallway. People were moving everywhere, marching off into the different directions where they would be needed. Colm himself had no idea where he was supposed to report to and quickly began scanning the crowd for someone who could point him in the right direction. That was proving more difficult than it sounded however. Everyone was in a rush to get where they were going and often before he could catch someone’s attention they had already passed him. The few whose attention he did get payed him no mind and kept on their way. He was just about to give up and follow a person at random when his savior appeared.

“Colm!” Master Kossex shouted as she ran towards him. “Come quickly! We need to get to our ships now!” He nodded and joined her at her side. The two hurried through the halls in a seemingly random pattern, dodging around people headed in the opposite direction. It only took them a few minutes to arrive at their destination. Dashing through a larger set of doors, they arrived in a hangar where several other members of Red Squadron were preparing their fighters. Master Kossex gestured towards one of the two free fighters as she headed towards the other. Climbing into the cockpit, Colm went through the well-practiced steps of starting up a starship. It roared to life underneath him and the displays began lighting up. He placed the headset on and waited for further orders. Moments later, the voice of Master Kossex rang out over the headset. “All fighters check in.”

The other pilots went down the line, responding with their call signs. “Red six, standing by,” Colm responded when they got to him. 

“All right, let’s do this thing,” the weequay said and the fighters one by one began to take off. Activating his engines, Colm followed the last of the fighters out of the hangar. As soon as he was outside in the rainy Kamino sky, he moved his ship alongside another one behind Master Kossex. “Keep tight. This might get a bit dicey.”  The three fighters angled upwards toward the oncoming squadrons and Colm gulped, trying to clear up his throat. It was time to do or die.


End file.
